


All Who Remain

by Siobhane



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Bucket List, Canonical Character Death, Coping with Death, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Ghosts, Grief/Mourning, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Moving On, Nerve Damage, Neurological Disorders, Past Abuse, Post-Canon, Post-World of Ruin, Promptis if you squint and run around the block three times
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-02 10:23:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17262521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siobhane/pseuds/Siobhane
Summary: Prompto finds an old Bucket List he and Noctis wrote at the start of their journey, and embarks on a quest to complete as many items on the list as he can, for himself and for Noctis.After all, the sun's out, it's a beautiful day, and there's no time like the present.





	1. The List

**Author's Note:**

> So my original account got deleted by accident (see my ffnet profile for the details if you're curious) so I'm having to repost this. I'm not going to repost everything that was on the old account, but this one did pretty well here, even though this isn't a popular ship. And honestly, the ship is not the main focus of the story. 
> 
> Anyway, have a repost.
> 
> Title is from the song "All Who Remain" by Beware of Darkness.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**_All Who Remain_ **

* * *

~ONE~

* * *

If Prompto squinted, it looked like Noctis was only sleeping. Noctis slept like the dead anyway, the last to wake for the day and only after threats of bodily injury, vegetables for breakfast, or the permanent deletion of King's Knight from his phone.

Prompto's eyes were drawn away from Noctis to the sunlight spilling down into the ruined room, so beautiful in its juxtaposition of utter destruction and pure unfiltered light. It was a literal ray of hope obliterating the despair of the last ten years.

That's what this heavenly light was – Noctis giving them a future, a present worth living in, giving them back their hope, and Prompto wanted to strip naked and bathe every inch of his skin in the warmth of the sun's rays. He wanted to take pictures of the dust motes against a backdrop of twisted metal and stone, of the way the light hit the gilded walls, of how it knifed through the darkness and spilled across the floor. Gods, it was enough to take his breath away.

His elation kicked down a notch as his eyes fell from the heavens to the throne, where Noctis awaited them.

He could have been asleep, but the Gods didn't go back on their word. The blood price was paid, and their King was no more.

Of the three of them, Ignis was the only one weeping, but he was doing so quietly and without so much as a sniffle. Prompto cried himself dry when the sun came up, the gradually lightening sky a blur of color that said Noctis had done what he came to do. It was a victory, but a bittersweet one.

He took Ignis' arm lightly and followed Gladio up the steps to the throne, taking care to make sure Ignis didn't stumble. Gladio reached the top first, took a knee and bowed his head in deference to their fallen friend.

To see big, tough Gladio break down almost sent Prompto careening back into hysteria. Ignis was one thing. Gladio, another.

Why did it have to go like this? He was the emotional one, not them. 

Prompto sucked it up and drew upon the determination that had carried him from lonely, friendless, overweight boy who abused himself with food, to close friend of a future King, a soldier, hunter of daemons, and a survivor.

If he couldn't do this, he wasn't as strong as he thought. If he had to be the strong one now, so be it.

He left Ignis on the top step and approached the throne. Noctis could be sleeping, but his face was too peaceful for it to be true.

Prompto smoothed back Noctis' long bangs and his hand met skin too cold to belong to something alive.

He remembered, back when they were still in high school, he'd gotten his hands on a bottle of whiskey and did what any other sixteen-year-old would do: he showed it off to his best friend.

They broke into a construction site a few blocks from their favorite arcade and climbed the skeleton of the new building, Prompto complaining about his fear of heights the whole way up. Together, they sat on the roof to spend the evening getting wasted.

Noctis wound up with alcohol poisoning trying to prove he could out-drink Prompto, which he did, of course he did, but neither were experienced drinkers and Noctis paid the price. Ignis almost killed Prompto for getting Noctis drunk, keeping him out past curfew, and then calling at three in the morning frantic because Noctis wouldn't wake up and his breathing was all wrong.

Noct's skin that night was almost as cold as it was now. Prompto should have been afraid of what that meant, but he didn't have room for fear anymore, nor the time for it. His younger self would face this new future with apprehension and uncertainty, but Prompto lived in fear for too many years to to let it rule him now.

All that was left was a goodbye.

"Remember all those times you said you wanted to sleep forever and we gave you shit for it?" he asked Noctis. "Well, it's okay for you to do that now, buddy. You earned it."

He thought his tears had run dry, but his eyes leaked as he stepped back and offered up a silent prayer to whichever God was listening. To Luna, too.

_Look after him. He's all yours now. Take care of him till I see him next, okay?_

Behind him, Ignis made a sound lost somewhere between a moan and a whimper. Of the three, Ignis was closest to Noctis, being the one to serve as advisor, parent, brother, and friend, and he'd put everything he had into his duty. As often as they joked about Ignis being the team mom, and as much as Ignis loathed the comparison, the assessment wasn't that far off.

Prompto returned to Ignis and offered his arm.

"Wanna go say goodbye?"

Ignis' goodbye tore Prompto's heart out and he didn't even say a word. It was Ignis' silent tears and his soft touch as he inspected Noctis for wounds and a heartbeat, like a parent tending to a sick child.

Noctis belonged to Ignis as much as he belonged to Regis. Prompto hurt on his behalf. These wounds would never quite heal. Not only had Ignis lost a friend, he'd lost a child.

Prompto couldn't imagine how that must have felt. Children of his own were not in his future, but he used to imagine if they were, they would be his whole world.  He would give them every bit of love he was denied and then some. That kind of loss, even the imaginary kind, would be devastating.

Gods, this was  _hard_. Every part of Prompto's life thus far had been tough, but this was the hardest thing he'd ever had to do. Harder than facing his own daemons in the Magitek labs. Harder than coming home every day to an empty house. Harder than breaking the habit of eating his feelings. Harder than any blow Ardyn dealt him down in Zagnatus Keep. Harder than telling the truth.

It would be easy to let grief and bitterness swallow him whole, but to not appreciate what Noctis did would be ungrateful. As much as it hurt, as hard as it was to let him go, Noctis wouldn't want any of them to cry over him.

He would want them to go outside and stand in the sunshine.

* * *

~X~

* * *

Insomnia in the dark was an eerie, decimated place, but there was something hair-raising about the way it looked in daylight, too. It was a ghost town. Not a soul emerged from hiding after the dawn came, and not even a breeze stirred the litter in the streets.

Prompto wandered aimlessly for a while, Gladio half a block ahead on his phone trying to get in touch with Iris, Ignis a step behind Prompto. He remembered places he'd been with Noctis in this part of town and the things they'd done here. None of it was beyond what ordinary teenage boys got into and consisted mostly of hanging out, playing games, and eating, but it was still worth revisiting. All this would be different soon.  The same, but different.

All the places they used to go lay in ruin. Inside the arcade, the machines were covered in dust and debris, some lay on their sides with broken screens and consoles salvaged for parts. Nothing except fixtures were left inside the camera shop where Prompto used to stare longingly at equipment he couldn't afford. The cafe where they spent afternoons after school was a pile of rubble.

Parked outside the drugstore was a motorcycle, dirty and covered in dust, but miraculously left undamaged. Prompto ran his hand over the tank, sure the color underneath the layer of filth was something dark, only to find cherry red paint that gleamed in the sunlight. Just for the hell of it, he climbed on and tested the weight.

Not too heavy. The tires were in good shape, too, but in need of air.

"Hey Iggy, take my picture," he said.

"You're asking a blind man to take a photo?" Ignis asked, but Prompto was glad to see a hint of amusement in his face. "Why not ask me to drive as well?"

"You'd still be a better driver than me," Prompto said. "Come on. Just aim toward the sound of my voice then push the button."

"As you wish," Ignis said and took the camera from him.

Prompto planted both feet on the ground, crossed his arms over his chest and grinned until the shutter clicked once, then twice, and Ignis handed the camera back.

He checked the shot and smiled. "Good job, Iggy. You got my good side."

"I managed to capture a photo of your ass, then," Ignis deadpanned. "You must be so pleased, considering how often you show it."

Prompto cackled and climbed off the motorcycle.

"Gods, I love you Iggy," Prompto said and claimed his friend's arm. "Never stop being you, okay? Not ever."

Ignis frowned.

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah, why?"

"You're unusually...  _composed_."

Prompto scratched his chin and cast a sideways glance at Ignis. Thank the stars Ignis couldn't see his face. Prompto was pretty good at hiding his real feelings, but Ignis used to be pretty good at figuring out when Prompto was pretending. And with everything that had happened in the last couple of days, Prompto didn't want to add any more stress on top of it.  Now was not the time or place.

"You know me," Prompto said lightly. "Just trying to stay positive."

"I am grateful for that. You almost made me forget for a moment."

"I'll be here all week," Prompto said. "Don't forget to tip your waitress."

Up ahead, Gladio leaned against the shelter of a bus stop, his hand to his forehead as he spoke into his phone. His dirty face was streaked with tears and Prompto got choked up again.

Nope. He wasn't going to cry. He had way too much on his plate to waste time on tears.

* * *

~X~

* * *

Days after Noctis was interred in the tomb inside the Citadel, beside his father and the modern-era Kings before him, Prompto sat on the floor of his room at the Levelle and packed an overnight bag. He wasn't sure if he was actually coming back to Lestallum, at least not long-term.  Everyone else was headed to Insomnia with the week, if not sooner.   

Prompto had other plans.

He attempted to stuff everything important into a space meant for a few articles of clothing and a toiletry case. Damn. He needed a bigger bag. Iggy might lend him one, but then he'd have to answer questions he wasn't ready to answer.

Plenty of time for that later. For now, if anyone asked, he was off to take pictures of the ruined world in daylight with the intention of publishing for posterity. Hell, maybe he'd actually do it. Somebody had to document what it looked like out there.

That sounded good, right? Like something he would do.

Past Prompto would never go off on his own, but during the dark years, he learned to cope with solitude in a better and healthier way than he coped as a child. Being alone didn't have to mean he was lonely.

As he debated what to do about the bag situation, he flipped through an old photo album full of pictures of the early part of their journey and felt equal amounts of happiness and sorrow. The first few days of that trip, before Insomnia fell, were a lot of fun.

Except for when the Regalia broke down, through absolutely no fault of his own, no matter what Gladio said. And maybe having to kill Reapertails to pay for food and lodgings wasn't so much fun either. The sandstorms sucked pretty bad, too.

But there were good things about it, things that made the not-so-fun parts worthwhile. Without the city lights polluting the view, the desert sky at night was full of millions of bright stars, so many it boggled the mind. Getting to try out Ignis' new recipes. Interesting rock formations and the stark beauty of crumbled buildings and rusted, decaying equipment. Hanging out with friends. The thrill of finally belonging somewhere. Meeting the Goddess of the Gears for the first time and falling head over heels in love, or what he thought was love at the time.

Had they ever really looked so young and innocent, though? At the time, Gladio and Ignis looked so much older to him than they did in these photos. Prompto himself looked not a day over twelve in spite of his ropy arms.

With a heavy sigh, Prompto closed the album. As the pages snapped shut, a folded, yellowed scrap of notebook paper flew out and landed on the carpet in front of him.

He unfolded it, smoothed the page against his knee and read the words scrawled in his very best penmanship. His high school essay handwriting.  Handwriting for letters and thank-you cards.  These words were important, at least, at the time.

It was a list, written the first or second night on the road after both he and Noctis split a six pack outside the camper at Hammerhead. The conversation that sparked said list was one of those that seemed philosophical and deep at the time but was probably the ramblings of two dorks who couldn't handle more than a beer apiece.

"If you knew you only had six months to live, what would you do?" Prompto had asked Noctis.

"You mean like a bucket list?"

"Yeah," Prompto said. "All that stuff you wanna do before you die."

"I don't know," Noctis said. "Beat King's Knight?"

Prompto, buzzed on half a beer lamented Noctis' lack of imagination, but reading over their respective lists now, he wasn't exactly a font of inspiration himself when it came to end-of-life last wishes.

**_Prompto's Bucket List_ **

  * _Ride a chocobo._
  * _Buy a motorcycle._
  * _Learn to ride it._
  * _Ask Cindy out on a date._
  * _Write Cindy a poem._
  * _Conquer fear of bugs._
  * _Learn to cook something besides salad._
  * _Conquer fear of heights._
  * _Tell my parents how much they suck._
  * _To their faces._
  * _Shotgun an Ebony._
  * _Skinny dip in the ocean._
  * _Punch Gladio in the nose and live to tell the tale._
  * _Get at least one photo published._
  * _Eat the spiciest pepper in the whole world._
  * _Out-Pun Iggy._
  * _Conquer FEAR._
  * _Marry Cindy._



Embarrassing how many times he put Cindy on the list. That wasn't to say he didn't still have a huge crush on her, but man. How desperate was he?

He shook his head and moved on.

_**Noctis' Bucket List** _

  * _Become King's Knight champion of the world._
  * _Reel in a monster._
  * _More fishing._
  * _Sleep._
  * _Purge all vegetables from the world._
  * _Sleep forever._



Prompto wiped a hand over his face at the last item on Noctis' list and let the paper rest in his lap.

"Shit," he said. "You've got me beat by a mile, buddy."

Prompto thought about how people always seemed put off the things they wanted to do for later. Life could be painfully short, and sometimes later never came.

"Time to step up, huh?"

No more putting things off.

It was time to make a new list.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some new content at the end of this chapter. My first playthrough, I skipped some of the quests, so I missed a certain conversation regarding Cindy. It fit the story really well, so there's a reference to it here. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

 

   
Prompto packed the essentials, collected his camping supplies – a one person tent, a sleeping bag and a small survival kit, and put the rest of his belongings in a shopping bag. He wouldn't need his photo albums or his comic books on the road. Better to leave them with Ignis so they wouldn't get lost or damaged.

All that was left to do now was say his goodbyes and check out of the room he'd called home off and on for nearly ten years.

He knocked on Ignis' door, apprehensive about the conversation to come, but anxious to get moving. Ignis answered, his posture more defeated than Prompto had ever seen it and his face puffy like he'd either just woken up, or he'd been crying. Prompto would bet on both. Ignis was usually even better at hiding his real feelings than Prompto was.

Was it selfish to take off now, while everyone was still raw from their loss? What if Iggy needed him?

But Noct would understand, right? He'd want Prompto to deal with grief in his own way, to chase his dreams and live his life on his own terms. After ten years of living in limbo, Noctis would want them to do all the things they put aside during the dark years. Otherwise, what was the point of his sacrifice?

“So you're leaving us, then,” Ignis said before the door was even closed. “Can't say I'm surprised.”

“I, uh, yeah,” Prompto said. “How did you know?”

“After all this time, you still doubt my powers of observation?”

Ignis flashed a sad smile and searched the table top for his favorite coffee mug. He could find things well enough on his own, and would ask for help if he couldn't, but Prompto, out of habit, and out of a need to lighten Ignis' burden, reached forward and slid the mug closer to Ignis' fingertips.

“What gave it away?” Prompto asked.

“I suppose it was the way you've avoided discussion of what happens next,” Ignis said as his fingers found the handle of the mug. “And you never say what's really on your mind, do you?”

Ignis had him there. Prompto could whine for hours about bugs and heights and claustrophobia, but years of keeping secrets and hiding his true anxieties made it tough to open up, even to those close to him.

“That's not really my area of expertise,” Prompto said. “Need pictures? I'm your guy, but all this politics stuff? It's way over my head.”

“Indeed,” Ignis said. He reached for the coffee pot, in need of no assistance in locating that. Ignis was a homing pigeon as far as coffee was concerned. “You're not missing anything. It can be quite dull.”

Ignis poured his coffee and sat beside the window, his face bathed in morning sunlight, scars highlighted in a way Prompto found beautiful. People always said scars were ugly, but Prompto thought they told a story and added character and sometimes made gorgeous things even more stunning. None so much as Ignis, for how he got them.

Funny, how Ardyn went after Prompto and Ignis directly, but never laid a hand on Gladio. Curious how he hit both of them where it hurt most. Prompto, his secrets and insecurity, Ignis his loyalty to Noctis. The only difference was Ignis' scars showed, while Prompt's were limited to a slightly crooked nose, mild nerve damage in his left hand and arm, and occasional nightmares.

Even after a decade, he still had them. Not as often as he used to, but more often than he would admit to anyone.

Prompto lifted his camera and peered at Ignis through the viewfinder. A perfect shot, a perfect face, the perfect light.

“Taking your picture, Iggy,” Prompto said. “Don't move.”

“Don't you already have hundreds?”

“I don't have a recent one of you in the sunlight,” Prompto said. “Hold still.”

Ignis submitted to Prompt's demand, his cup of coffee clutched in both hands and his face turned toward the light. At the push of a button, Ignis was immortalized on film, bathed in sunshine for the first time in ten years.

“Oh man, that's a good one,” Prompto said as he admired his work. “You have a great face, Iggy. The camera loves you.”

“Please,” Ignis said. “I'm sure I look a fright.”

“Not at all, dude.”

Ignis sipped his coffee.

“How long do you plan to be away?”

“I don't know. Vyv's got some work for me,” Prompto said. He let the camera rest in his lap, his finger still on the button. “However long it takes, I guess. Lots of stuff to take pictures of, you know?”

As he waited for Ignis to decide whether he was lying or not, he rubbed the chronic numbness from the ring finger of his left hand. It had gradually worsened over the years to sometimes include his pinky finger and part of his palm. Nothing he could do about it. Massaging it didn't actually help, but he did it to make himself feel better.

“Shame I won't be able to see the results of your adventure,” Ignis said. “I've no doubt your work will find its way into the history books.”

Prompto felt guilty for not telling the full truth, but thank the Gods he'd picked a believable excuse to split. It wasn't easy to get one over on Iggy.

“Hey, someone's gotta do it. Might as well be me, right?”

“No one better suited for the job,” Ignis said. “I, for one, am grateful to hear it. It's about time your dream became a plan.”

“Don't be,” Prompto blurted out before he could stop himself. He grimaced, closed his eyes and sighed. “I mean, it's not like there was time or a reason to do it, you know?”

Ignis fell silent and let his mug rest against the table. Prompto cringed. Even though Ignis couldn't see him, he knew something was off. Prompto was sure of it.

“Something the matter?”

“It's nothing,” Prompto said. “Just... maybe I shouldn't go just yet. I don't want anyone to think I'm running away or anything, and you guys need help with the plans to rebuild, right? I mean, there's a lot to do... and I kinda promised Noct I'd usher in a new era and all that.”

“Documentation is important as well, lest we all forget the past,” Ignis said.

“Right,” Prompto said. “Yeah. You're right.”

“Just be sure to check in every now and then,” Ignis said. “We may have all gone our separate ways over the years, but that doesn't mean I want it to stay that way. We've all lost too much already.”

Prompto pressed his mouth into a thin line, a frown that Ignis didn't see, and willed himself to stay calm. It didn't help that Ignis sounded emotional, when he could always be counted on to be the one to keep a cool, level head. It said a lot about how much Ignis was hurting if he couldn't keep the sorrow out of his voice.

“You are coming back eventually, aren't you?” Ignis asked.

“Yeah,” Prompto said. He hoped it wasn't a lie. “I'll be back. Probably pop in on you from time to time. Got photos to take, you know?”

“Then it's settled,” Ignis said. He stood up and held out his arms. “If you'll indulge me?”

Prompto accepted his embrace without question, but couldn't stop himself from holding on too hard or for too long.

It wasn't a true goodbye, but damn, it felt like one.

 

* * *

 

 

Prompto didn't get to say goodbye to Gladio. He couldn't find him and he wasn't answering his phone. Prompto guessed he'd spent the night out drinking with Aranea again and was sleeping it off on the floor of her apartment like always.

He was pretty sure they weren't a thing. Aranea made it pretty clear she wasn't interested in anything but a drinking buddy who could keep up and who wasn't a subordinate. Either way, it was kind of fun watching the self-proclaimed ladies man get shot down time and time again. That sure didn't stop him from trying, though. Mystery fiancee or not.

It was sort of a relief not to have to go through it again with Gladio. Unlike Ignis, Gladio would ask questions and demand answers. He'd probably tell Prompto he was being an idiot for taking off and wouldn't understand his reasons, and the conversation would end on a tense note, and Prompto didn't want that.

Their relationship had always been a little more complicated than the others. Sometimes, even after all these years, it was hard to tell if Gladio actually liked him, or if he just put up with him because of Noctis. Maybe that was his own insecurity talking, or maybe he never quite understood Gladio himself, but they didn't always see eye-to-eye on things. Prompto suspected this would be one of those things.

He headed down to the Coenix station, where Talcott waited beside his truck with Iris.

“Ready to head out?” Talcott asked.

“More than ready, buddy,” Prompto said. “Got the spare gas tank filled up already?”

“It's in the back.”

“Perfect.”

Prompto watched Lestallum recede behind them, the city that was his part-time home during the darkness, and wondered if he'd really ever see it again. Likely, the next time he saw any of his friends, it would be in Insomnia.

Iris spared him the need to talk or keep the mood light. She dominated the conversation, and Prompto was fine with that. Every so often, she gesticulated to make a point, and jabbed him right in the ribs with her bony elbow. Prompto didn't complain but instead pressed himself closer to the door to watch the ruined world pass outside the window.

She was doing a great job of hiding her grief, that was for sure. Prompto knew exactly how she'd felt about Noct, and he knew exactly how much it had hurt her when Noctis left them again.

But he wouldn't know it, listening to her now. Maybe he and Iggy weren't the only ones hiding behind brave faces.

It occurred to him as he half-listened to them discuss politics, they were the future. They would be the ones to take the reigns of reconstruction and the ones to lead the charge toward the new and better world Noctis envisioned. There was nothing holding them back now. No darkness. No crystal. No daemons. No Ardyn.

Prompto didn't care for politics. His place and interests lay elsewhere. He had things to do, places to go, and no time to waste on pointless debate or negotiations.

“I'm just saying, Noctis was the last King,” Talcott said. “There can't be a King after that, Iris. It doesn't make sense.”

“Fine, call it what you want. President or something,” Iris said. “Someone has to lead and everyone's saying Iggy's a shoe-in for the job.”

Prompto snorted and leaned his head against the window.

“King Ignis, all business,” he said to himself.

“He'd make a great King,” Iris said, as if Prompto had just disagreed with her. “Or whatever.”

“No doubt,” Prompto said. In some ways, Ignis was better suited to rule than Noctis ever was. He knew how to serve and how to lead and was a brilliant tactician to boot. “But... I don't think Iggy's up for the job. At least, not right now. Anyways, maybe he wants to open a restaurant instead. Ever think of that?”

“Well, who would you suggest?”

“Talcott for Prez,” Prompto said. “You can be the VP.”

“That is so sexist,” Iris said. “I mean first of all, I'm way older than he is and I have a ton more life experience, and second, why is it that women are always supposed to come second to men?”

“You just had to go poke the behemoth, didn't you?” Talcott said under his breath. “Thanks a lot, buddy.”

“Sorry dude,” Prompto said. “Just trying to lighten the mood.”

“That rhymed,” Talcott said with a giggle.

“Yeah, he's a regular poet,” Iris said rolled her eyes.

“You know it!” Prompto said. “Anyway, don't you guys think it's too soon for all that? Give it a few months. Let the dust settle. Do something fun for a change.”

Iris patted Prompto's knee. Her ire switched to sisterly concern in a second.

“Right. How are you holding up?”

Prompto's gaze lifted from the landscape to the puffy clouds, all silver linings and soft edges.

“Can't complain,” he said. “Sun's out. It's a beautiful day.”

The truck hit a pot hole, sending Iris forward against the dash. She yelped, rubbed her wrist, and muttered a few choice swear words under her breath that would probably make Gladio proud.

“I told you to put on your seat belt,” Talcott said. “You're twenty-five, Iris, not twelve.”

Prompto looked at Iris and faked a big brother's frown of disapproval.

“I should wash your mouth out with soap.”

“Oh, please. I've heard you say so much worse.”

“Yeah, but I'm a grown up.”

“Since when?”

“Since I got old,” Prompto said. “And smarter and wiser.”

“Thirty's not old,” Iris said. “And I'm sooo much smarter than you.”

Her elbow caught Prompto in the ribs again and he elbowed back.

“I'll give you that, but I got you beat in the wisdom department, hands down,” he joked. “There is none wiser than me, oh tiny grasshopper.”

“What. Ever. Did you forget about Ignis?”

“Iggy's transcended to a higher plane. He's no longer a mere mortal,” Prompto said. He laughed softly, but his mood fell as he thought of Ignis left alone to deal with his grief. “Ever notice how he just... knows things?”

“Spooky, isn't it?” Iris said. “It's hard to get away with anything with him around. He's worse than Gladio. All he has to do is make that face and I confess things I'm not even sure I did wrong.”

“Or when he says he's disappointed in you,” Talcott added with a groan. “That's the worst. It makes me feel awful. I'd rather him yell at me than tell me I let him down.”

“Yeah, that one's pretty bad,” Prompto agreed.

And probably the reason Prompto didn't ask Talcott to turn the truck around and take him back to Lestallum. Ignis would not be pleased if Prompto backed out on his mission out of guilt.

Prompto returned his attention to the passing landscape, to the shades of green and gold he hadn't seen in ten years, colors so vivid, it almost hurt his eyes.

“Everything's so green,” Prompto said. “Shouldn't everything be dead?”

“Why would it be?” Iris wondered.

“Uh, green things need light to grow?” Prompto said. “Nothing should be alive except for like, mushrooms or whatever. Don't you think that's weird?”

“I hadn't really thought about it,” Iris said.

“Who's the smart one now, huh?”

He poked her in the ribs and she returned fire with a hard pinch to his knee. Her grip hit a pressure point that sent a zing up and down his left side. He jumped and shook it off, then resumed his earlier position – head against the window to watch the world go by and let the conversation fade to the background.

* * *

   
The motorcycle was where he left it in front of the ruined drugstore, and it beckoned to him as he climbed from the truck. It didn't belong to anyone anymore. No one would miss it if he claimed it for his own.

Armed with a hose, a funnel, and a can of gas, he drained what was left in the tank, then filled it back up. He figured, if he could get it started, he might make it all the way out to Hammerhead on a full tank, and Cindy would be all too pleased to get a chance to work on a fancy city bike.

It was a pathetic excuse to see her, but he knew from experience, the best way to get her attention was to drop something with an engine in front of her and let her have her way with it. Useful parts and tools worked too. It was a win-win. He would get his motorcycle in perfect condition, and she got something new and fun to tear apart.

It took a couple of tries to get it started, and when it did, it ran rough.

“Sounds like it's got a fouled spark plug,” Talcott said. “Probably needs an oil change, too. It's been sitting a while.”

“Dude,” Prompto lamented. “Don't talk about her like that. She can hear you.”

“I'm just saying, if you want to make it out to see Miss Cindy, it's gonna need some work,” Talcott said. “But I don't mind dropping you off. Monica won't be here until tomorrow, so we've got time to kill.”

Prompto sighed. Was he so transparent?

“There used to be an auto parts store around here somewhere,” Prompto said. He turned to the left, then to the right. “That way, I think?”

The auto parts store was two blocks up on the left. The showroom was full of overturned shelves and fixtures, and there wasn't much left but a handful of windshield wiper blades, a bottle of leather cleaner and a stack of cracked and faded car wash buckets.

In the back, though, Prompto found a plethora of things Cindy might find useful. It reminded him of a long ago conversation about taking Cindy on a treasure hunt in the city, after the war ended. She'd go nuts in here, that was for sure. He couldn't identify half the stuff on the shelves, even though he'd come a long, long way in terms of auto repair knowledge, mostly because he'd spent a great deal of time at Hammerhead helping out when there were no daemons to hunt.

He mentally added that to his new and improved bucket list. He couldn't wait to see the look on her face when she stepped inside to liberate the forgotten products from their dusty tomb.

Talcott located a couple of spark plugs while Prompto gathered cans of car wax. It wasn't Aerowax, but he would bet it was just as good, if not better. He also found some fiberglass coating, brake pads, and an assortment of belts and hoses. He didn't know if Cindy could use any of this stuff, but it was worth it to grab what he could just in case. After all, when one approached a Goddess in need of assistance, it was best to come bearing gifts.

“Bribing her isn't going to work, you know,” Iris pointed out.

“I'm not trying to bribe her,” Prompto said, offended. “What kind of guy do you think I am?”

“The desperate kind.”

“Ugh. Go away, Iris,” he said. “You're sounding a little too much like Gladio for my liking.”

“Just saying,” Iris said. “Anyway, did you ever bother to actually ask her out or tell her how you feel?”

“I'm content to just be her errand boy,” Prompto said. “It's a great honor to serve our Lady of the Gears.”

“Ugh. Really?”

“Really.”

“Liar.”

Prompto didn't want to argue the point with Iris. She might understand his plight a little too well, but he didn't need any lectures about not waiting too long to say what needed to be said.

After all, Prompto wasn't the only one with a soft spot for someone out of his league.

 

* * *

 

  
Hammerhead swarmed with hunters when they arrived. Piles of fencing lay along the road, the gate torn down and the way open for visitors. That small sign of progress lifted Prompto's melancholy as he climbed from the truck and stretched his legs. The world would recover, slowly but surely. Mankind, after all, was resilient, and would rebound and prosper, sooner rather than later.

Prompto wasn't surprised the garage was open for business. Music and the whir of a power drill bled out into the parking lot as he caught sight of Cindy inside her lair, clad in jeans and a Hammerhead t-shirt.

His heart skipped a beat. Thirty-six and still a knock-out.

_Get a grip. You're not twenty anymore, and you're not her type._

Prompto wasn't so sure Cindy had a type. Over the years he'd noticed the way she gently rebuffed men's advances by playing oblivious, and he'd never really seen her reciprocate. If there were relationships going on behind the scenes, she kept them private.

There was nothing more attractive in the world than a girl who had enough confidence in herself to live her dream, expectations and opinions of others be damned. And he knew her well enough now to know that behind the sexed-up outfits, there was a smart, savvy, confident, and driven woman who knew exactly what she was doing, both in business and in skill, and he respected that.

Prompto found all that intensely attractive, and he always had. He wouldn't lie and say those incredible legs didn't make him weak in the knees, but he admired the hell out of her for knowing herself, knowing what made her happy, and living her life on her own terms, even in the worst of times.

If she ever decided to give him the time of day, Prompto would probably die of happiness, but unless he replaced his limbs with wheels and his heart with an engine, that was unlikely to happen.

No big deal. He'd happily be her errand boy for the rest of his life, no strings attached, no expectations. She didn't owe him anything, and he considered himself lucky to just be her friend and go-to delivery guy.

“Man, I forgot how dusty and dry it was here,” Iris complained.

“Compared to the sauna that is Lestallum, I'll take it,” Prompto said.

Cindy was clearly busy, but Cid sat in his lawn chair under the umbrella, a glass of iced tea on the table beside him. Just like old times, but not.

“Howdy, ya'll,” Cid greeted. “Didn't expect to see ya so soon. Not to say I ain't happy to see ya. How you holdin' up?”

“Hanging in there,” Prompto said. “Sun's out. Good enough for me.”

“That it is,” Cid agreed. “But it's so goddamn bright it's givin' me a headache. Not that I'm complainin', mind you. Take a headache over daemons and darkness, that's for sure. Talcott, you ain't gonna say hello? Get your ass over here and give an old man a hug.”

Talcott leaned down and hugged Cid as ordered, his fondness undisguised. Cid had become a surrogate grandfather to him over the years, something Talcott sorely needed after Jared's death. Prompto suspected Talcott had become a surrogate son to Cid, something perhaps Cid needed, too.

“Lookin' good, boy,” Cid said. “You get taller every time I see ya.”

That was no lie. Talcott had grown taller than Prompto by the time he was fourteen and continued to grow. At eighteen, the kid was two inches taller than Ignis and quickly gaining on Gladio.

Cid, on the other hand, got smaller every time Prompto saw him.

“Looks like Cindy's pretty busy today,” Prompto said.

“She's got her hands full,” Cid agreed. “Wish I could pitch in, but my body just ain't cooperatin'.”

“Doubt she even notices,” Talcott said.

“I could disappear into thin air and she wouldn't know it for days,” Cid said. He cleared his throat. “So, what brings y'all out here?”

Prompto hitched his thumb at the motorcycle in the truck bed.

“Picked up a new toy,” he said. “Needs a little work and I thought Cindy might get a kick out of, you know, fancy city stuff.”

“Well, now, that she would, son,” Cid said. He pushed to his feet with a low groan and a muttered complaint about his back. “Bring her on out here fer me. I can't fix her but I'd sure love to have me a look.”

Prompto and Talcott wrestled the motorcycle out of the truck bed, the tailgate lowered to act as a ramp, and Prompto wheeled it over to Cid. The old man circled it and poked at things with soft, unintelligible grunts.

“This is some find, son,” Cid said. “This here's not just some fancy city bike, this is a classic. Back from when Reggie and me used to run around. Reckon there ain't many like it left. 'Specially not now.”

“You think it can be fixed?” Prompto asked.

“Don't you go doubtin' Cindy's skill now,” Cid said. “She's the best and she learned from the best. If she can't fix it, no one can.”

“Oh, no, I'm not doubting, I was just wondering about parts and stuff,” Prompto said.

“Well, it don't look like she needs much, but I'm sure you'll be happy to go on a hunt for it if Cindy needs something,” Cid said.

“You bet I would,” Prompto said. “Hey, we also found some other stuff. Thought she might be able to use it.”

“She sure would, son,” Cid said. “Put whatcha got over by the office, if you don't mind. Best not to disturb her while she's workin'.”

Talcott and Iris pitched in, then said their goodbyes as the sun began to set. Prompto watched the tail lights of Talcott's fade into the distance, bound for Insomnia. A bit of sorrow nipped at his heart as an unwelcome thought of being left behind intruded in on his cautious hope.

But he wasn't being left behind. He was the one leaving.

Their hopes and dreams lay somewhere beyond the checkpoint in visions of Insomnia resurrected, peace restored, a new world, better lives. Prompto's lay in the opposite direction, destination undetermined.

Prompto didn't blame them for wanting the old life back, but he couldn't find any comfort in thoughts of the future. For him, there were no dreams of tomorrow, next year, or ten years down the road.

There was only now, today, this second, and no amount of talk of tomorrow was going to change that.

* * *

 

Takka's was closed up tight, but from the looks of it, under renovation. All the Hunter's gear had been cleared out and the booths had been reset. He'd hoped for a taste of that old, familiar menu, but he settled for a pair of under-seasoned, overcooked skewers from the food truck parked next to the diner. Not as good as Takka's, and not even in the same realm as Ignis', but the meal filled his stomach, and that was the best he could hope for.

Cindy looked to be busy for a while. Her legs stuck out from under a battered pick-up and an assortment of parts and tools lay on the concrete floor. Not wanting to bother the Goddess while she was working, Prompto decided to turn in for the night.

The camper was spoken for, and the field behind the garage was littered with hunter's tents. He considered joining them. He probably knew most of them, if not by name, then by sight, but he wasn't really in the mood for carousing late into the night.

Prompto surveyed the ridge above the Hammerhead, a place where he once made an absolute fool of himself for the sake of a photo, and decided he'd make camp there. After all, there were no more daemons to contend with, no more reasons to fear the dark. He could safely sleep under the stars without runes to protect him. Maybe, he'd even be able to get a good shot of Hammerhead at night.

He was about to head up to the ridge when Cid waved him over to his lawn chair throne.

“You got time to have a beer with an old man?” Cid asked.

A beer sounded good, though Prompto gave up heavy drinking somewhere around age twenty-five. But back then, it was almost a custom to go out, kill some daemons, and get wasted because they lived through it. Everybody did it, even Ignis from time to time, though only if the fight was particularly nasty, and Ignis never drank to the point of sloppy drunk the way Prompto and Gladio did.

For about a year, Prompto drank all the time. To be cool. To fit in. To kill all the bad dreams. To dull the ache caused by Noctis' absence. It almost got him killed.

These days, Prompto abstained almost entirely, though he could be persuaded on special occasions. He supposed this counted. He'd just laid his best friend to rest. No reason he couldn't indulge for the sake of a toast, even if he was the only one lifting his glass.

“Sure,” Prompto said. “I could use a cold one.”

He took a seat in the spare lawn chair and accepted the bottle Cid passed his way. He cracked it open and lifted the bottle toward the setting sun.

“This one's for you, buddy,” he said.

Cid agreed with a grunt, clinked the neck of his bottle to Prompto's, and took a swallow. Neither said anything for a while. To Prompto, the idea of talking would ruin the beauty of the sunset.

It still made him sad to watch another day die, but now it filled him with apprehension, too. What if it set and never came back up again? What if Noctis' sacrifice was all in vain?

He'd just have to trust that it was finished. Noctis wouldn't rest easy until it was really and truly done.

“Like to have broke my heart when I heard the news,” Cid said. “Got the sun back, but we lost our boy.”

Prompto nodded his agreement. There weren't any words to describe how it felt to be there at the end, and he wasn't even going to try.

“Damn all the Kings and the Gods, too, for takin' him.”

“That's blasphemy, old man,” Prompto said, but he didn't disagree.

“Boy was born to die,” Cid said. “It ain't fair.”

No explanation could justify Noctis' death or make sense of the path he was born to walk. It wasn't fair. It would never be fair. Prompto just had a hard time saying that out loud.

“I watched that goddamned crystal suck the life out of Reggie,” Cid said. “I fought at his side, and for what? So his boy could die for some old grudge. It ain't right.”

“He died for peace,” Prompto said. “Not the Gods. Not Ardyn. He died so we'd get to live.”

“I know all that,” Cid said. “Don't change the fact that it wasn't his fight to begin with.”

“Life's not fair, old man,” Prompto said, thinking of how they got Noctis back just long enough to make losing him hurt all over again. “We don't always get to choose where we came from or where we're going....”

Cid reached over and patted Prompto's hand, and Prompto left the thought unfinished.

“I'm glad you boys was there for him in the end,” Cid said. “That he could call y'all his brothers, even after him bein' gone so long.”

“Always,” Prompto said. His eyes burned with tears he refused to shed. “Forever.”

Cid finished his beer and opened another. They sat in silence as the last of the light faded from the sky.

“You know,” Cid said after a while, “I seen a lot of boys come round lookin' to get Cindy's attention, but I ain't never seen one stick around after he figured out she ain't got the time or inclination.”

Prompto put a hand to his face. He'd wondered over the years if Cid noticed, and if he did, when he'd get the overprotective grandpa speech. Apparently, the time was now.

“My girl's only got one thing on her mind, and it ain't got nothin' to do with courtin',” Cid said.

“Married to her work, and all. I know,” Prompto said. “You don't have to tell me. I get it.”

“Well,” Cid drawled, “I reckon you do, and I reckon you respect her for it too, unlike these other yahoos that come 'round thinkin' they can change her mind.”

“I'd never try to change her mind,” Prompto said. “I like that she's so focused.”

“I suppose that's what I'm getting' at,” Cid said. “She's so focused, she don't see the desert for the cactuar. And she's got boys comin' 'round all day long, so much that she don't notice the attention no more.”

Prompto frowned at Cid and set his empty bottle aside. This was not the conversation he anticipated.

“I'm not sure what you're trying to tell me here, dude,” Prompto said.

“You want her to give you a chance, you gotta make it known, son,” Cid said. “She ain't gonna see it otherwise, no matter how many brake pads you drop in her lap.”

“Wait, so... are you saying... you... want _me_... to ask her out?”

Cid cackled, cracked another beer and chugged half of it at once. For a tiny old guy, he could sure put them away quick. Prompto would be passed out already if he tried to keep up.

“You're a good boy, and as far as I know, you ain't ever expected nothin' in return for all the fetchin' you done over the years or done nothin' to make her uncomfortable,” Cid said. “That's a hellova lot more more'n I can say for most of these other fellers. Rather see her with someone like you than any one of them. 'Least I know you'd treat her right.”

“Wow,” Prompto said. “I... don't know what to say.”

Cid pushed another beer across the table. Prompto refused it with a shake of his head. One was enough.

“Say you'll think about it,” Cid said. “Truth is, I'd like to see her settled and thinkin' about the future before my time comes. That ain't gonna happen without a little push in the right direction.”

Prompto's chest tightened and for a second, he couldn't breathe. He would love to be that guy, but it just wasn't going to happen in this lifetime, even with Cid in his corner.

“Thanks for the advice, buddy, but she probably won't say yes,” Prompto said. “Besides, I'm heading out as soon as the bike's road-worthy.”

“Well, I ain't gonna stop ya,” Cid said. “But if you change your mind, I'll put in a good word.”

“Appreciate that,” Prompto said. “I should probably make camp before it gets late. I'm beat.”

He got up and reached for his bag.

“Thanks for the beer,” he said. “See you in the morning, gramps.”

“Sleep well, kid.”

He climbed the ridge above Hammerhead and lit his lantern. No point in a fire. The night was warm and he didn't plan to be awake long.

It was so nice out, he didn't bother with the tent, either. He laid his sleeping bag out on the ground, took out his camera and snapped photos of the clouds and stars with the low light filter on until his eyelids grew too heavy to look through the viewfinder.

 

* * *

 

  
He woke before dawn, drawn from sleep by the subtle shift in light above. He blinked at the sky, stars still visible to the west and the first sign of dawn in the east, and he sat up with a yawn.

No bad dreams. No more eternal night. Morning was here.

For breakfast he ate a pack of crackers and watched the colors change on the horizon. He dusted off the crumbs and retrieved his camera, climbed on top of a boulder and waited. Gradually, the sky brightened with bands of gold and pink and lavender and dark blue, shades reflected in the thunderheads building to the northeast.

No photo would ever capture the intensity of color, no matter how hard he tried or what filter he used, but he didn't waste the opportunity. He snapped photo after photo as the hues changed to hot orange and gold as dawn broke.

So engrossed in it was he that he didn't hear the soft crunch of gravel behind him until Cindy was already climbing the boulder to join him. Prompto jumped, almost dropped his camera, and broke into a stupid grin.

“Hey there,” she said. “Didn't startle ya did I?”

“Uh, no,” he said. “I was just taking some pictures.”

_Great job stating the obvious, you idiot. Now she probably thinks you were dropped on your head a few times as a child._

“Can I see?”

“Sure, but... they're not as good as the real thing,” he said and nodded to the sunrise. “I don't think anything can really do it justice.”

Cindy took his offered camera anyway and scrolled through the shots as blue began to overtake the gold in the sky beyond.

“These are real purty,” she said. “Like somethin' you used to see in magazines.”

“Thanks,” he said, flattered by the praise.

She handed the camera back and Prompto secured it in his lap. He wished he could take a picture of her in this light. The rising sun set her dark blonde curls ablaze in shades of amber and gold and made the green stand out like they were back-lit from within.

Half his reasons for this trip were about doing the things he never had the courage to do, and so far, he was failing miserably. He couldn't even summon the guts to ask for a single photo.

But what was the worst that could happen? She'd think he was a creep and say no?

“Hey, uh, Cindy?” he said and lifted the camera from his lap. “You think I could... take your picture?”

“Right now?” she asked. “Oh, sweetie, I'm a hot mess. I ain't even brushed my hair this mornin'.”

“You're beautiful,” he blurted out, then sighed at his idiocy. “I mean, the light... It's... good. It's doing stuff...”

_It's doing stuff? Gods, what is wrong with me?_

“If you insist,” she said, obviously pleased to be asked. “Snap away.”

Prompto looked at her through the lens and he stopped breathing for a second at the accidental perfection of the frame. Cindy Aurum, her eyes and hair aglow, with Hammerhead gleaming fire in the background, might as well have been an actual Goddess in this light. Hard to imagine anything more perfect or more beautiful in the world than this.

He snapped three photos, then wordlessly showed them to her.

She didn't say anything at first. Prompto was sure she hated them.

“Ain't nobody ever made me look like that in a picture before,” she said. “You got some real talent, Prompto.”

“Eh, you made it easy,” he said with a smile. “Didn't even have to try.”

“You're sweet.”

Cindy rubbed her hands together, both already smudged with grease, like she just couldn't resist tinkering with something before her morning hike, and turned her gaze to the horizon.

“I'm real sorry about His Highness,” she said. “I cried when I heard. First time I cried over anythin' in years.”

“You can call him Noctis, you know,” Prompto said. “He wouldn't mind. He actually... really hated people calling him by his title.”

“S'pose when it came down to it, he was human, just like everybody else.”

“That he was,” Prompto said.

Noctis was a man with faults and bad habits and a big heart and more courage than anyone Prompto had ever known. He certainly wouldn't have been able to walk into that throne room prepared to die, all by himself. Of course, Prompto was prepared to die on the steps of the Citadel that night, too, but he had friends by his side. He wasn't alone.

Cindy squared her shoulders and turned back to him, all business now.

“Cid showed me the stuff you brought,” she said. “I about wet myself when I saw there was twelve cans of fancy city wax in there.”

Prompto smiled. The Goddess had accepted his offering and was pleased.

“Figured since it was just lying around, you might have a use for it.”

“Do I ever!” she said. “I appreciate you thinkin' of me, especially right now with everything goin' on and all.”

Prompto swallowed around the lump in his throat. As sincere as the condolences were, he'd rather not hear them anymore.

“Hey Cindy? Maybe...” Prompto began, then stopped.

There was no harm in asking. That was the whole point, wasn't it? To do the things he'd never had the guts to do? He'd faced so many terrifying things over the years, so why was asking a simple yes or no question so hard?

“Maybe what?” Cindy prompted. “Go on. Ask whatever it is you was wantin' to ask.”

Prompto took a deep breath and looked to the horizon, beyond which the ruined Insomnia lay awaiting her ressurection.

“Maybe one of these days, you and me can head over to Insomnia and go hunt up some rare parts or something,” he said. “The city's pretty wrecked, but there's a ton of stuff we didn't get. You know, before they clean it all up and start to rebuild....”

Cindy cocked her head thoughtfully.

“How much stuff are we talkin'?”

“A lot,” Prompto said. “And there are more places I didn't even look.”

“Well, if ain't nobody usin' it,” she said, “I'm runnin' real low on a lot of things and ain't had time to see to restockin' product. Too bad I ain't got the time right now either, since Paw-paw's booked me up solid this week and probably into next.”

Prompto got the feeling if she could go this very second, she would. He could see the wheels turning inside her head.

“Ain't never been to the city,” she said. “Wish I coulda seen it before the wall fell.”

“Yeah,” Prompto murmured. "You would have gone nuts over all the cars..."

He thought about how easy things were then. If he was hungry, he could walk a block in any direction and find food. If he was bored, there were a few dozen places he could find entertainment. If he wanted to sleep, all he had to do was go home and climb into bed. Anything and everything he needed or wanted was right there at his disposal.

“It's crazy to think about it now,” Prompto said. “We didn't appreciate how good we had it.”

“You miss it?”

“Sure,” Prompto said. “Who wouldn't? Never really had to worry about anything. No daemons, no monsters. Had everything we wanted and then some, you know? Movie theaters and 24 hour grocery stores... It was nice.”

“Y'all had whole entire stores for groceries?” Cindy asked, bewildered.

Sometimes, even after all this time, Prompto forgot that people out here bought food from the grocery truck or from open air markets like in Lestallum. They didn't have four aisles of refrigerators full of frozen pizzas and corn dogs.

“Big ones. The size of a city block,” Prompto said. “You could buy, like, toothbrushes and shampoo there, too.”

“I ain't sure if that sounds like a blessing or a nightmare.”

Prompto laughed. He'd both loved and hated the grocery store. Too cold, like walking into a giant fridge, always crowded, but also a better option for healthy food than his favorite fast food chain, or the convenience store he used to visit for junk food. All those pretty fruits and vegetables. Red, yellow, orange, deep green, even navy blue and purple. Brightly colored packages neatly arranged on shelves by category. So many options to pick from.

“A little of both,” Prompto said.

Cindy patted his knee and sat up straight.

“So, how about we go see if we can get that motorcycle running again?” she said. “Get you back on the road. Hell, I'll even paint her for ya, if you want.”

“Aww, you don't have to do that,” Prompto protested. “I'm sure you've got too much work as it is.”

“Well, truth is, I been itchin' to paint somethin' nice, since it wasn't much in demand with it bein' too dark for it to matter,” she said, “but you been real good to me, so consider it a thank you for bein' such a sweetheart and thinkin' of me.”

“When you put it that way, it's kinda hard to say no,” he said.

“Then you just decide what coat you fancy and you let me know,” she said. “Meet you in the garage in ten?”

Prompto stood up and dusted himself off, his left leg asleep from sitting too long.

“Sure,” he said. “See you in a few.”

He watched her go, torn between worry that he'd made the wrong choice about leaving, and utter delight his gamble paid off. When she disappeared down the trail, he turned to collect his things and found Noctis standing beside his sleeping bag, arms crossed over his chest, looking exactly the same as he did the day they first stood upon this Hallowed Hill.

Prompto blinked to clear the vision away. Noctis was dead. He couldn't really be standing there in his Princely Fatigues and mismatched boots, but the specter stayed put.

“About time, don't you think?” Noctis asked. “It only took you ten years.”

Speechless, Prompto took a step back, almost tripped over a rock, and sputtered at his friend. Or the ghost of his friend. Or whatever this was.

“Noct?” Prompto asked. “Is that really you, buddy?”

“Oh, Great Goddess, something-something, Garage of Gears, blah-blah,” Noctis said, way too amused with himself to be anything but the real deal. “I can't believe you woke me up for that.”

“You loved it,” Prompto said with a nervous laugh.

“Too bad you didn't get to give the whole speech. I bet it was good.”

Gods, he looked so real. Either he was really here, or Prompto was losing his mind.

“Don't worry about the guys,” Noctis said. “You do what you need to do, okay?”

“Iggy's pretty upset,” Prompto said. “More than he lets on.”

“I know,” Noctis said. “But you have your reasons for doing this, and trust me, I get it. I would have done the same if I got the chance. Don't waste it, okay?”

Prompto bowed his head and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Promise me.”

“I'm not going to waste a second, buddy,” he said to the dirt beneath his feet. “I'm doing this as much for you as I am for me, you know.”

“I know.”

“Tell me something, Noct,” Prompto said, “am I hallucinating this, or are you really like, _here_?”

Noctis didn't answer. Prompto lifted his head.

Noctis didn't answer because Noctis wasn't there.

Maybe it really was just a hallucination.

But if so, why were there Noct-sized boot prints in the dirt beside his sleeping bag?


End file.
